Never Forget
by The2nd
Summary: A conversation between Kimblee, Mustang, Hawkeye and others in ch. 60 is remembered by Riza and Roy during missions in Ishval.
1. Sniper

Disclaimer: I do not own FMA, any of its characters, any of its locales, any of its... well anything

Author's Note: This is my first completed piece of fiction. I've written portions and loads of background information before, but never actually finished a story.

The italicized text is taken directly from the Manga ch. 60. The actual story itself takes place sometime after the conversation from Ch. 60, but still occurs during the Ishval Massacre.

* * *

--Inhale--

She peered through the scope on her rifle. She watched as a squad of soldiers advanced up the street. She slowly swept her rifle to the squad's flank searching, watching, and waiting.

--Exhale--

There was sudden gout of flame somewhere in front of the squad as they continued to advance. Her focus never wavered. There, an Ishvalan was running on the next street over. He hugged the sides of the ruined buildings, but he remained out from under cover. She started to align her sights.

"_Why? Because that's the duty of a State Alchemist."_

--Inhale--

The Ishvalan disappeared into one of the ruined buildings. She remained focused on where he had disappeared. He was probably trying to circle around the squad's flank.

"_Why are soldiers who should be protecting the populace, killing them instead? Because those were the orders we were given. Isn't that right?"_

--Exhale--

She shifted her aim to the other side of the building. The soldiers continued to advance up the street. There was another burst of flame further up the road.

"_Are you telling me to rationalize this way? This tragedy?"_

--Inhale--

She waited, slowly scanning the ruins for a glimpse of dark skin, white hair, or red eyes.

"_Can't you look at this as a job? What about all of you?"_

--Exhale--

The Ishvalan emerged from the dilapidated building. He looked around quickly before spotting the squad of soldiers a block further up the street.

"_If we could we wouldn't be discussing this, sir."_

--Inhale--

She saw the Ishvalan slowly start to creep up towards the soldiers in front of him. Once again she tracked his movements.

"_Well then… How about… You there little lady. You don't like your work do you. It's written all over your face."_

--Exhale--

As the image of the Ishvalan merged with the crosshairs of her scope, she burned the image of the Ishvalan into her memory. She would remember everything she saw through the scope: The way he was cautiously creeping up the street; the way he carried the grenade in his hand; each spot of dirt, blood, and burns on his clothing; exactly how dark his tan skin was; and his almost perfectly white hair.

"_That's true. I don't enjoy killing."_

--Pause--

'But there's someone I need to protect.'

--Squeeze--**BANG**

Her shoulder absorbed the kickback of the rifle. It rode upwards slightly before she smoothly lowered it back into firing position. She quickly worked the bolt of the rifle. Ejecting the spent casing and quickly seating another round into the chamber.

--Inhale--

She watched as the sight picture through the scope returned to her now crumpled target. The Ishvalan was dead, a head shot. The exhilaration of another perfect shot washed over her.

"_When you drop an enemy, can you tell me in all honesty that you don't, for a moment, indulge in the satisfaction and pride of a job well done… Miss Sharpshooter?"_

--Exhale--

But the exhilaration didn't last as she watched as a pool of blood rapidly expanded around the Ishvalan's corpse.

"_THAT'S ENOUGH!"_

--Inhale--

A wave of anguish battered her back down in to the dirt, mud, and blood.

"_From my perspective, you lot are much harder to understand, Always looking for some way to rationalize your role on the battlefield. Is it evil to kill with alchemy? Is it more virtuous to kill with a gun? Or maybe you were prepared to kill one or two but not thousands?"_

"_The moment you put on this uniform out of your own free will, you knew something like this could be expected of you. If you don't like it, you shouldn't have put it on in the first place. Why do you act as though you're the victims, when this was the path you chose, free of coercion?"_

"_If you're going to pity yourselves, don't kill anyone in the first place!"_

--Exhale--

The anguish disappeared just as rapidly as her earlier exhilaration. All that remained was a distant ache. She refocused her vision and looked through the scope.

"_Don't avert your eyes from death. Look straight ahead."_

--Inhale--

Once again she memorized everything she saw through the scope: The now red tinged white hair, the somewhat lightened tan skin, the thoroughly blood soaked clothing, the grenade still in his hand, and his utter motionlessness.

"_Look squarely at the people you're killing. And don't forget them."_

--Exhale--

The two images stood in stark contrast to each other. The first of the living, breathing, Ishvalan; and the second of what she had done to him.

"_Never forget them, because they won't forget you."_

--Inhale--

The images faded to the depths of her memory as she once again focused on the task at hand. She slowly began scanning the surrounding area for further targets. She slowly worked her way back to the squad of soldiers now another block further away.

--Exhale--

Another flash of fire illuminated the area, and she focused her aim at the emergence of a shadow. There was someone hiding in the alleyway.

--Inhale--

She focused her attention on the alleyway as an Ishvalan boy glanced quickly down the street. He quickly returned to his earlier position with his back pressed tightly to the wall.

--Exhale--

The crosshairs merged with the figure of the boy. She once again noted each little detail: the way he crouched, his ragged clothes, and the fact he was unarmed. But most of all, she noted the fear in his blood red eyes.

"_Never forget."_

--Pause--

--Squeeze--**BANG**

**

* * *

**Author's Note:

The whole Inhale/Exhale thing comes from what one does when target shooting. You time your shot so it will occur either at the lull in an exhale or inhale, and sharpshooters will even take a shot in between heartbeats.

The initialized text is once of my favorite parts of the whole manga series. While I don't like Kimbley his character is undeniably well done in the manga. His view on the world is very simple and direct.

I just recently discovered FMA: Brotherhood, so glad they're 'rebooting' and following the manga closer. This got me to reread the manga. The more I thought about the ch. 60 conversation the more I felt it deeply effected both Mustang and Hawkeye. Both of them clearly remember what they did, and have used those memories to push forward in the goal to prevent Ishval from happening again. I may write another short fic with the conversation going through Mustangs mind (different setting, different format). I felt that Hawkeye would be the most effected, being a sniper is personal. Your not just shooting at them over there, your shooting him or her.

Please review. Praise, critiscm, and comments are all welcome.


	2. Executioner

Disclaimer: Don't own FMA. Nope, none of it. Not even the comma on page 257.

Author's Note: This is a companion to my first chapter. This time the conversation from ch. 60 is remembered by Mustang during an event in ch. 61.

Dialogue is taken directly from the manga, I take no credit for it.

* * *

The Ishvalan sat there slumped against the ruins and rubble that was once Daliha. He slowly petted the still dog lying in front of him. The same dog that had just moments before stood before the injured Ishvalan growling its hatred at the Armestrian soldiers.

Roy Mustang stepped towards the collapsed man. As he approached he heard the Ishvalan's ragged breath and noticed the man's gunshot wound. The Ishvalan was slowly dying. He stood there looking down upon the Ishvalan. A minute dragged by, then two. The Ishvalan continued to pet the dog, refusing to acknowledge the Armestrian's presence. Mustang wasn't terribly surprised. All forms of communication had come to a halt after the Ishvalan's Supreme Cleric, Logue Lowe, had surrendered in an attempt to save what was left of his people. With the surrender rejected and the cleric executed, everyone on both sides knew there was no point. A detached portion of Mustang's mind was almost amused. This Ishvalan was going to ignore him completely.

A soldier approached the two men stopping a few steps to Mustang's side. Coming to an approximate position of attention the soldier never lowered his rifle; they were in the middle of a war zone after all. The soldier looked to him and said, "Major Mustang, he's the last one, sir."

Mustang made no acknowledgement of the soldier's statement. Still looking down upon the Ishvalan he spoke, "Old man, your all that's left." He paused before continuing, "Do you have any last words?"

"Major…" the soldier beside him stirred.

Ever since Presidential Decree 3066 had gone into effect the high command had frowned on any efforts to treat the Ishvalan's with any level of respect or humanity, even in the their execution. The treatment of Logue Lowe had only reinforced this point. Regardless, Mustang was going to give this man a chance to say his piece. It was the very least he could do.

'Hmph,' a short weak snort was all the Ishvalan gave as an initial reply.

Mustang began to raise his gloved hand, but waited. The Ishvalan began to drag his head upwards. He was only able to open one of his eyes, but he locked it firmly on Mustang's face. The Ishvalan smiled and with surprising strength said, "I will never forgive you."

There were no other sounds but the rustling of fabric in the wind. Mustang frowned as he stared into the Ishvalan's single blood-red eye. He had no reply, but really there was no reply to the Ishvalan's statement. It was true, it was deserved, and as he thought about it not all together surprising. What was surprising was there was no hatred, no anguish, in the Ishvalan's face, just a calm smile.

Mustang snapped his fingers and the last Ishvalan in Daliha was incinerated. He stood there and forced himself to watch the Ishvalan's execution and funeral pyre.

"_Don't avert your eyes from death. Look straight ahead. Look squarely at the people you're killing. And don't forget them, never forget them. Because they won't forget you."_

Major Roy Mustang, the Flame Alchemist, had never liked one Major Zolf J. Kimblee, the Red Lotus Alchemist. Kimblee was a smartass and a sociopath that reveled in destruction. As far as Mustang could tell the slaughter of thousands of people hadn't bothered Kimblee in the slightest, probably slept like a baby. As much as he wanted to hate his fellow alchemist the honest part of him forced him to admit that in this case, Kimblee was right. They wouldn't forget.

Without taking his eyes of pyre he simply ordered, "Get me a radio."

The soldier beside him replied with a, "Yes sir," before turning back towards the rest of the squad.

Mustang remained staring at the now smoldering wreckage that was once another person. He felt almost relieved that he had long since stopped believing in God, if he ever had believed in the first place. If he hadn't been an atheist, he would have sworn it hadn't been the Ishvalan that had spoke.

A pair of soldiers approached him. The radio operator held out the receiver. Mustang took it and brought it to the side of his face, "Headquarters this is Flame, Daliha secured."

"This is headquarters, we read you."

* * *

Author's Note: Originally I wasn't sure I was going to be able to do this from Mustang's perspective. Given he points out that he doesn't even know the members of his own squad let alone the many Ishvalan's he's killed. I think it works out well here though.

Any reviews, praise, criticism, comments welcome.


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